Adam's Daughter Part 9

Her arms were draped gently across his back. But inside, she was holding him fiercely, with no apparent effort. She lay there quietly looking up at him. He was totally in her control. It was the most incredibly erotic sensation he had ever experienced.

"Oh my G.o.d," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

Her lips turned up in a small smile, and she closed her eyes in pleasure. She released him then tightened, repeating the exquisite pulsing rhythm for several minutes. Then she let go and began to move her hips rhythmically, her breath coming in short gasps. She raised her legs to take him deeper, pulling his back, as her climax tore through her body. With a final quivering thrust and cry, he collapsed.

He was breathing hard and his back hurt from where her fingers had dug into his skin. But he was completely, gloriously spent, bathed in sensation and sweat.

"I wanted to make it good for you," he whispered against her neck.

"You did," she said.

They lay there, entwined, as the room grew dark. After a while Adam moved to his side so he could see Elizabeth's face. Her eyes were closed, her red hair fanned out on the pillow, a half smile on her lips, one hand draped languidly across her breast. She looked so blatantly sensual, and the way she had moved, and held him like that -- where had she learned such things?

His ego was slightly bruised and he felt vaguely disconcerted, unable to reconcile the fact that this woman he had held up as some ideal G.o.ddess had s.e.xually manipulated him as no prost.i.tute ever had.

She opened her eyes. "h.e.l.lo, husband," she said softly.

"h.e.l.lo, wife," he said.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

They returned home to take up residence in a suite at the Mark Hopkins until they could find a house. Elizabeth said she didn't mind, but Adam did. He had lost the house on Vallejo to Lilith in the divorce and the rest of his finances had been greatly limited. He had retained majority owners.h.i.+p in the Times and the paper in Sacramento, but Lilith had extracted high alimony payments, her lawyer claiming she was ent.i.tled to be supported in the style equal to her social position.

The irony of his situation was not lost on Adam. Here he was, just married to the widow of one of the country's wealthiest men, yet he was so financially strapped himself that he could not afford to buy her a new home.

Elizabeth had inherited $100 million from Reed but it was tied up in stock holdings, set up in a trust directed by a board of executives from her late husband's company. The revelation had come as somewhat of a disappointment to Adam. He certainly hadn't expected to plunder Elizabeth's fortune but he had expected to have some access to it eventually. As it was cunningly set up, however, Elizabeth could sell small blocks of stock and spend the capital as she wished but Adam could lay no direct claim to it. She could buy whatever she wanted. But nothing could be in his name.

Someday she would also inherit money from her father. But Charles Ingram, Adam was sure, would do whatever was necessary short of disowning his daughter to prevent Adam from using Elizabeth's inheritance for his own means.

So money was, for Adam at least, an unspoken issue. To have all that money so close yet so far was unbearable. Especially since he was so eager to get on with building his newspaper empire. He had plans, such big plans. But no big money of his own to back them up.

He often thought about bringing it up to Elizabeth, asking if she could sell some stock. But however he framed the question in his mind it sounded like a confirmation of what Charles Ingram had said -- that Adam was nothing but a fortune hunter.

Even now, after nearly twelve years, he still smarted whenever he remembered Ingram's dismissal that day when he came to see Elizabeth in the mansion on Broadway: "You have nothing to offer my daughter."

Three months after the wedding, they settled into a rented home on Jackson Street. It was a big cheerful Victorian but on a less desirable fringe of Pacific Heights. Elizabeth did not seem to care about her newly scaled-down lifestyle. The only discontent she expressed was over her inability to conceive. After five months, she still had not become pregnant.

She wanted children so badly. She wanted them partly to make up for the fact that Adam had lost Ian in the divorce.

Soon after Adam returned from his honeymoon, Lilith had called him. She ranted that his marriage to Elizabeth was an insult to her, that it made her look foolish to her friends.

"You never had any sense of propriety," she told him. "This will ruin any chances you ever had of being somebody in this town. And Ian's, too."

"She can't control me or the newspaper anymore," Adam told Elizabeth. "So she will control Ian and turn him even further against me."

"He's your son, Adam," Elizabeth said. "I'm sure he still loves you."

But Adam's fears were confirmed when Ian finally came for his first visit. He was withdrawn and silent, greeting Elizabeth with indifference and cold good manners. Adam had arranged to have the day off and they went to see the new film Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, which the eight-year-old Ian p.r.o.nounced "a baby movie." By the end of the weekend, Adam returned Ian to the house on Vallejo, feeling defeated.

"Lilith's right," he told Elizabeth. "He's lost to me."

"Oh, Adam, it's not true," she said. "He's probably just very hurt and confused by the divorce."

"I don't like the way he treated you."

"He's just a boy, Adam," Elizabeth said. "Don't be so hard on him."

He took her in his arms. "Let's have a baby," he said.

"We've certainly been trying," she said.

"I want children," Adam said. "A house full of them."

"Yes, I know, sons," she said. "And maybe a daughter to keep me company?"

Later, they lay quietly in each other's arms after making love. Adam stared at the ceiling lost in his thoughts. As always, Elizabeth had surprised him with her pa.s.sion and he found himself wondering more and more about Willis Reed and what kind of marriage they had had.

"Elizabeth, are you awake?" he said.

"Barely," she said.

He propped himself up on one elbow to look at her. "Why didn't you have children with Reed?" he asked.

She was quiet for a moment. "You're worried that I can't, aren't you," she said. "I know I can, Adam. I just know it. And we will."

Adam lay back again. The long silence was broken by the muted call of a fog horn.

Elizabeth sighed and sat up against the headboard. "I should tell you something about Willis and me," she said softly.

Adam waited but she didn't seem to want to go on.

"Elizabeth, what is it? You can tell me anything, you know that."

She took a deep breath. "It's not that I can't have babies. It's just...Willis never made love to me. Not once in ten years."

Adam looked at her in astonishment but she wouldn't meet his eyes. She sat naked, slightly stoop-shouldered, her eyes on the sheets. "He was a strange man," she whispered. "He stayed in the city and came up to the house only on the weekends. I was alone there all the time." She paused again, her voice faltering. "On Sat.u.r.day night, always at nine, he'd come up to my room. He'd sit in a chair near the bed and then order me to take my clothes off and touch myself. He sat there and watched. After a while, he would get up and leave."

When she finally looked at Adam her eyes were glistening. "Why did you do it?" he asked.

"I don't know. I was only seventeen and I had some stupid notion that it was my duty as a wife or something." She shook her head. "I owe that to my mother. I never once saw her show any affection to my father but she still felt qualified to give me quite a little speech about a wife's duty before I got married."

She wiped her hand across her eyes. "After a few months I couldn't stand it anymore. I refused and he didn't press it. He just left me up there in that awful house. I was going crazy all alone. I couldn't go home, so I started running off to the city by myself, staying in hotels just to get away."

Adam gathered her into his arms. He held her silently for a long time.

"I've had lovers, Adam," she said. "No one I cared about, nothing that lasted long." She paused. "I had to tell you, Adam. Please don't hate me for it. I was lonely and needed someone to make me feel clean and normal."

Conflicting emotions careened through Adam. A stab of jealousy toward the faceless lovers. But the pain in Elizabeth's eyes finally left him with only a strong protective urge. And rage toward Willis Reed.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Forget about Reed. You're with me now." He held her until he could hear her breathing become deep and even.

"Why do people do it," she murmured, before she slipped into sleep, "why do people marry the wrong person?"

"They have their reasons," Adam said. "Reasons that always seem right at the time."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Six months after their marriage, a handsome cotton rag envelope arrived addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Adam Bryant. Elizabeth opened it and asked Adam, "Who is Enid Atherton?"

"Queen of the social b.u.t.terflies," Adam said. "She probably wants a donation for one of her charities."

"Actually, she wants us," Elizabeth said. "It's an invitation to a post-opera party."

Adam read the invitation. "Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned," he said with a smirk.

"Let's go, Adam," Elizabeth said.

"You can't be serious."

She put her arms around him. "Please," she said. "I'd like an excuse to dress up for you."

Adam had planned to take Elizabeth to the opera opening, but the last thing he wanted to do was go to a party afterward. But he saw the eager look in Elizabeth's eyes and felt guilty. He had been spending so much time at work, and she was surely restless, cooped up in the house alone most of the day. It would be good for her to get out and meet people.

He stared at Enid's name on the invitation, feeling a small surge of satisfaction. "Of course we'll go," he said. "And I want you to buy a new dress. I will be with the most beautiful woman in the world, and I want everyone to see her."

At the opera, Adam sat proudly at Elizabeth's side in his box. People stared up at them and whispered, and he tilted his chin higher. He was well aware that right from the start his marriage to Elizabeth had created a furor, generating columns of type in Eastern newspapers. One New York tabloid headlined it "Mrs. Reed's Gold-Rushed Romance." Most accounts in the East had politely referred to Adam as the owner of the San Francisco Times. But the implication was clear that the twenty-seven-year-old heiress had married beneath her.

Until now, Adam had been unaware that he also had become a curiosity in his own town, especially among the social elite. His divorce and remarriage had given him an air of notoriety. There were a few people who dismissed him as a parvenu. But most were intrigued, even a bit proud, of the handsome San Franciscan who had risen from nothing to capture Elizabeth Ingram Reed, the flower of one of the Old South's most ill.u.s.trious clans. San Franciscans had a healthy respect for epic romances and mavericks, and Adam suddenly found his life and himself recast in those roles.

After the opera, when he and Elizabeth entered Enid Atherton's drawing room, all eyes focused on them. Adam recognized a few of the people who Lilith had played up to for so many years, people who had always snubbed him. They were staring at him...and Elizabeth.

He felt her fingers tighten on his arm.

"Courage," she whispered, and led the way into the room.

He watched her as she began to easily work through the crowd, smiling warmly, introducing herself and Adam. He held back, taking his cues from her. She drew appreciative stares from all the men and envy from the women. She was wearing a fluid white satin gown by the French designer Vionnet, a spectacular dress that subtly reflected every undulation of her body. It was provocative among all the demure silks and correct brocades. She wore her hair pulled up and no jewelry except her wedding band. No other woman looked so elegant.

Soon, Enid Atherton came up to them. The woman was about forty with hard gray eyes that missed nothing. She was the city's biggest arts patron, the woman who controlled entry into the city's elite inner circle. She leveled her steely eyes at Elizabeth and smiled.

"I know your aunt, and I've wanted to meet you for some time, my dear," Enid said. "I should have extended an invitation sooner."

"We're delighted to be here," Elizabeth said.

"Did you enjoy the performance tonight?" Enid asked.

"Very much." Elizabeth took Adam's arm. "But I know so little about opera, really. My husband is teaching me. He lives for it, I think."

Enid gave Adam a stare. "Yes, he must, to have gotten a lifetime box." She smiled. "Perhaps we can convince you to become a patron now, too, Mr. Bryant. Art, after all, does not come cheap."

Adam smiled. "Nothing does that's worth having."

Enid's smile widened. "Then I'll have one of my guild people contact you." She looked at Elizabeth. "Perhaps you might join the guild, dear. We'd love to have you." She glanced around. "I must see to my other guests. Enjoy yourself, you two." And she waltzed off with a rustle of satin and click of pearls.

"Did I just spend money?" Adam asked.

"Think of it as an investment in your future," Elizabeth said, smiling.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

After Enid's party, other invitations quickly followed. Adam found he had entree to people and places he had never had when he had been married to Lilith. He knew the invitations came because hostesses wanted to put the glamorous couple on display.

"We're salon circus freaks," he told Elizabeth. But secretly, he enjoyed the attention. He liked mingling with the wealthy and famous in grand homes. He liked the splendid food and wine. But most of all, he liked showing off his beautiful wife.

People were attracted to Elizabeth, responding to her uncomplicated, open nature, her kindness and good humor. Everyone seemed to draw energy from her.

Even Adam felt it. He was changing, in some subtle but important way. Slowly, he was emerging from inside himself. All his life, he had been content to be a mere spectator. Now, he longed to be a celebrant.

A little more than a year after their marriage, they found themselves at another affair given by Enid. This time, Adam moved through the crowd with a feeling of belonging.

"So, Bryant, what do you think? Are we going to find ourselves in another war?"

Adam turned his attention back to the small circle of men. "I think it's a real possibility," he said. "Was.h.i.+ngton has recalled our envoys from Berlin."

"I think we should stay out of it," one man said. "Let the Jews fight their own battles."

"But the n.a.z.is are getting a bit out of hand," another said. "Last month, when they smashed all those windows. What'd they call it? Crystal..."

"Kristallnacht," Adam said. "More than ninety people killed."

"They brought it on themselves," the first man said with a wave of his hand. "That Jew kid killed a German politician, for crissake. And we're the ones who're going to have to send our kids over to fight their battles."